


Please dear be sure of us and ours

by agirlwithnoname



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Multi, mostly focusing on Eliza and John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlwithnoname/pseuds/agirlwithnoname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how John's life might have turned out, had he not died on that battlefield.</p><p>Exploring how two people who loved the same man learned how to love each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please dear be sure of us and ours

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, a few things:
> 
> \- I had no beta, so mistakes are all my own.  
> \- Mostly show canon with a bit of history mixed in.  
> \- Timelines are a total mess, sorry.  
> \- John is a biromantic homosexual, Alexander is a biromantic bisexual, and Eliza is a heteroromantic demisexual.  
> \- I conveniently forgot about John's wife and daughter.
> 
> Title from the song Start With Them, Ends With Us by Dan Mangan.

John is in the south on family business when the word reaches him. He hears whispers of a torrid affair, and at first he denies it when people ask him about it. They all know that he knows Alexander well, and are curios as to what he knows of this new scandal. He denies it because he doesn’t believe it. He knows better than they do that Alexander has his desired fulfilled, he has his wife, and in secret from the world he has John too. When John left the bed he shared with Alexander and Eliza not two weeks ago they were happy, Alexander would not have had any reason to do such a thing.

And then the pamphlet arrives. It tells the whole dirty story, it tells the painful details. John reads it and he feels ill. 

Alexander brought a woman, a girl really, into their home, into their bed. John feels his hands shake when he reads the words, when he reads how on the summer John, Angelica, Eliza, and the children went upstate and Alexander stayed behind, Alexander betrayed their trust. John feels a sinking feeling because he remembers feeling sorry for him because he had to stay behind. He remembers the lingering kisses he shared with his lover, and how he watched Eliza kiss her husband goodbye.

John makes plans to go back to New York the next day. He sits in a carriage, and as the hours turn into days, his sadness turns into anger. 

During the war John was full of anger, full of recklessness, but the years mellowed him. No, that’s not quite the truth; the Hamilton’s mellowed him.

He loved Alexander even before the man had met his future wife. Their love was a burning passion in the beginning, stolen kisses, quick touches. When Alexander met Eliza, John had felt jealousy, but he had understood. They shared what John thought would be their last kiss on the day Alexander and Eliza married, but fate had other ideas.

The war had already ended when John was shot. The bullet had struck him unexpectedly and he had been knocked off his horse. He had laid on the ground, blood spilling from his wound, sure that this would be his end. He did not curse his foolishness, he did not cry, he simply waited for death.

Death did not come that day. Last he remembered was being carried to safety, the next thing was at a doctor’s practice some four days later. He had fought battles with infections in his sleep, and had won. For weeks it was uncertain if he would heal or not, if he had a chance of life. On fever filled nights John cursed that he had not died on that field. 

The fever broke the last time another week later, and his wounds had started to heal.

On his sickbed John had received many letters, most of which his doctor had dealt with during his mental absence. A lot of well wishing letters had arrived from everyone from John Adams to general Washington, all written with kind words and meaningless platitudes. His father had written a dozen letters. He was insisting that John return home to recover as soon as his health would allow it, and the mere thought had made him feel more ill.

Alexander had written at least two dozen letters. When John was finally able to sit up in his bed, those were the first letters he reached for. The first one was dated before his injury and Alexander was asking him to come to him in New York. He wanted a friend, he wanted support, and he could only trust John.

The next letter was different. John was so used to Alexander’s eloquent handwriting, that when he picked up the letter he could hardly believe it was from him. The writing seemed frantic, the words sloppy. Alexander rarely misspelled words, yet this letter was riddled with errors. There were blotches of dropped ink all over, as if he had dipped his quill franticly. The words themselves were addressed to John, but it was easy to read in the words that whatever the word was that had reached Alexander, he had not expected John to live.

The last words of that letter haunted John, and in that carriage on his way to New York with the cursed pamphlet in his hands, they started to burn him.

“The life I lived before I had you, my dear John, was filled with death and despair. Do not make me face a life without you again, for I am not sure I could survive it.”

The letters after that had been calmer as his doctor had started replaying on his behalf. John read the the pages slowly, no more than three letters per day, and by the time he had reached the last one, his doctor told him he was ready for travel.

He had sat in another carriage that day, and he had not hesitated to head to New York, instead of South Carolina. His father would be angry, but John needed to listen to his heart, no matter how foolish its words were.

The ride took long, and when John finally arrived on the strange doorstep, his strength was all but gone.

It was late evening and John felt chills. Ever since his unfortunate meeting with the bullet, the cold seemed to affect him more. The doctor had said that he would never find his strength in full again, but John wasn’t afraid.

Alexander opened to door after John’s weak knocks, and the look on his face was one of pure shock, but it quickly melted to elation. They had embraced there on the doorstep, and after that John had to be helped inside.

Alexander led him to the fireplace, and soon returned with his wife, their son on his arms. 

After that John remained in bed for another few weeks. The journey had taken a lot out of him, it had drained him like he hadn’t imagined possible, and he felt embarrassed that at the age of 27 he was like the small Hamilton babe; tired, hungry, and cranky, unable to do anything himself. 

The first few days after John’s arrival Alexander stayed home. He did not write or work, simply sat by John’s bedside. At first they talked a lot, about nothing and everything, but after John felt too tired for that, Alexander would read to him. He would sit there, his reading glasses on his nose and his long brown hair loose on his shoulders, and he would read books John did not care about, and John loved him so much it ached him.

John knew Alexander too well, and after four days had passed, he ordered Alexander to go back to work. At first the man protested, but relented without a real fight.

When Alexander was out of the house, John fell in love a second time. 

The day after Alexander returned to work, John woke with Eliza in his room. She was sitting by the window, quietly knitting, when John opened his eyes. After the night he had arrived, he had not really seen her. She had brought him food and drink, but they had only really exchanged a few word, mostly thank yous.  

John carefully sat up in his bed, but the movement must have caught her eye, as she looked up and smiled.

“How are you feeling this morning John?”, she asked in her gentle voice. Her smile was wide and seemed to reach all the way up to her eyes.

He cleared his throat.

“Well, thank you.”

She put away her knitting and crossed the room to give him a platter of bread and cheese, and handed him a cup of water. He took a bite of his bread and only then noticed Philip, the youngest Hamilton, seated on a blanket on the floor, playing with wooden blocks.

Eliza sat next to her son on the blanket and started playing with her son there.

This became a part of his everyday life. Each morning John would wake with Eliza and Philip in his room with breakfast. Eliza would take Philip with her when it was time to cook lunch. They would eat downstairs, and after they were done they would return upstairs with his food. Sometimes they would stay after that, other times not. Alexander would usually get back home around 5 o’clock and he would split his time between his wife, his writings, and John.

The weeks went by, and John and Eliza started to talk. At first they shared pleasantries, John would tell Eliza how good the stew was that day, Eliza would tell him his color was much better than it had been the day before, but after a while they started to actually talk.

What broke the barrier was the day John felt good enough to get up from the bed by himself. It wasn’t something he had planned or expected, but rather something that simply happened.

John had woken to the sound of the door opening. Usually he slept through that, but this morning it woke him. Eliza quickly set Philip on the floor so she could serve John his breakfast, and John had sat up on the bed properly. Little Philip was very excitedly crawling on the floor and John couldn’t help but to smile at the little boy. It was because he was smiling down at the boy, thus paying him his full attention, that he had time to react when things went wrong.

The bedroom he has in was on the second floor, just above the stairs. Eliza would usually shut the door before he let Philip down on the floor to play, but today she had hurried to John with his breakfast and had simply forgotten. The boy was crawling by the door and in what seemed like seconds, he was out of it.

John jumped from his bed before he had time to give it a second thought. He lunged to the door and grabbed the child from the floor not a moment before his crawling would have sent him head first down the straircase. Eliza stood behind him, already with tears in her eyes. John passes the small boy to his mother and without hesitation Eliza took the small boy in her arms, and pressed both of them against John for a hug.

“Thank you.” Eliza’s voice was shaky and he could hear the sobs in it.

All three of them sat on John’s bed after that. Philip played with his blocks, unaware of how close disaster had been. Eliza and John sat next to each other, both looking down at the little boy.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

The words escaped John’s mouth without him meaning to say them. She had been so kind to him, she had dedicated half of her day to simply being in the same room as him. They had not been friends before this, they had barely known each other. They had met only a few days before the wedding, and only a handful of times after that.

Eliza stayed quiet for a while, but when she spoke her voice was calm and gentle.

“I saw you and Alexander on our wedding day.” John looked up in shock. He remembered that, it had been but one kiss, but it had been one that would not be shared between two people who were merely friends. John opened his mouth to explain, to defend himself, but the words didn’t come so Eliza continued instead.

“I wanted to hate you.” Her soft voice didn’t waiver. “I looked through his letters with you after that, and realized that you had had his heart long before I did.”

She punctuated those words by taking John’s hand in hers. She turned to fully face him, so they were face to face now.

“I realized that you had not stolen him from me, but I had stolen him from you.”

She raised their entwined hands and placed a gentle kiss on them. John felt his breath catch.

“I am kind to you because I know what it’s like to have him, and can not bare the thought of losing him. I am kind to you because I am begging your forgiveness.”

John blinked tears from his eyes then, and with great effort took a few deep breaths. 

“You are an angel among men.”

John’s voice sounded weak even to his own ears, but he raised their joined hands as well, and placed a small kiss on hers.

After that, John could not imagine a life without her. They didn’t tell Alexander about that day, not for a while, but things changed.

John would get up from his bed every single day. He would play with Philip, he would help Eliza with the food, and sometimes he would sit with her by the fire and simply talk. They shared stories about their younger days. Eliza would tell him about sneaking out with her sisters, and John would tell her about their days in Washington’s camp. At first the stories were the fun ones he told everyone; causing mischief with Alexander, Lafayette, and Mulligan, the duel with Lee, the brave battles, but after a while he started to share the stories he had never shared with anyone.

On a rainy morning he told her the story of his first kiss with another boy, and how his father had caught him. He told her the story of his first love, his first loss. He told her the story of how he had met a foolish young Alexander, and had fallen in love the moment he saw him.

Eliza never cast a judgmental eye at him. She never seemed disgusted, she was only full of sympathy and unconditional love. He had no idea what he, or Alexander, had done to deserve this woman in their lives. 

Alexander was obviously extremely pleased that the two of them were getting along so well. He didn’t know the truth of how much the two of them had opened up to each other, he simply thought that they had developed a close friendship. 

It was almost three months after his arrival at the Hamilton house, that John felt almost like his normal self again. His health was improving by the day and he spent most of the day out of bed now. One of his favorite past-times had become his small walks to the nearby park with Eliza and Philip.  It was only a five minute walk, a distance both he and Philip could usually manage, but it made him feel alive again.

The sun was out when their usual trio made the walk to the park, but that day poor little Philip seemed more tired than usual. He had reached for John, and he had taken the boy in his arms. By the time they arrived at the park and took a seat on one of the benches, the boy was fast asleep.

John had tied his hair with his usual ribbon, but before Philip had fallen asleep, he had managed to yank the ribbon loose, so when John sat down, Eliza took the ribbon and moved behind the bench to tie his hair again.

A group of four older ladies passed the bench, but stopped in front of them.

“Well would ya look at that, it’s so nice to see young families out and about!”

That simple sentence left John almost breathless. He opened his mouth to say something, to say that this wasn’t his family, to say that he was only a guest, when Eliza beat him to it.

“Thank you, we do love this park.”

There was no denial, no saying that this isn’t her husband. She simply continued to run her fingers through his curly hair to prepare it for the ribbon.

“And would ya look at that little boy! He looks just like his daddy!”, one of the old ladies exclaimed, laughter in her voice.

Eliza simply continued tying the ribbon, and John could hear the smile in her voice when she answered: “The family resemblance is quite strong!”

The old ladies continued on their way, and Eliza finished with John’s hair. As she sat down on the bench, she took his hand again. It had become a habit of theirs, but usually only in the house. They sat near each other, their hands joined all the times, but John was quite sure this was the first time it had happened out in public.

“Before your strange brains starts to doubt itself again I want to make this very clear; you are family.”

The way she said it left no doubt in his mind that that was what she felt, and he could not say that he did not feel the same.

After they got home that afternoon, they cooked dinner, and little Philip went to bed quite early after that. Alexander had not yet arrived home, he was very busy these days. John helped him with his writings as much as he could, they had spent countless nights in Alexander’s office, creating and destroying with the power in their words.

That night John and Eliza sat together on the sofa, the fire cracking in front of them. John had a glass of whiskey, but he had only taken a few sips of it. Eliza was drinking wine, and as usual their fingers were curled together between them. 

“John, I like to think that there are no secrets between us, wouldn’t you agree?”

John took another sip of his whiskey and nodded his agreement. He had never opened up to anyone he had opened up to Eliza. She knew more about him than Alexander ever would, he was quite sure.

“Please don’t think judge me for this, but I feel like it needs to be cleared before I ask my next question.”

Her tone was serious, and John turned to her, curios. He had a feeling this had something to do with what had happened at the park earlier, but he wasn’t sure what it could be. He gave her another simple nod to encourage her to continue.

“Could you ever love a woman the way you have loved men? Physically?”

The question took him entirely by surprise. John had told her about the people he had loved, and he had not hidden the fact that they had all been men, but to be confronted with the question this directly felt strange. 

“I….”, he stammered, the words stuck in his mind. “I…I do not think so.”

She squeezed his fingers and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I suspected, but since my Alexander seems to enjoy both equally, I felt like I should make sure.”

John completely understood that. He had never felt lust to anyone but men, but he knew that Alexander had never preferred either. 

“You had another question?”, he asked, his voice surprisingly steady. 

Eliza stayed quiet for a moment then, the shadows from the fire dancing on her face.

“I wanted to know what boundaries we should have before I asked.”, she whispered, her voice sounding lower than usual.

“I don’t understand.”

“ I wanted to know what boundaries you and I would have before I asked you to join Alexander and I in our bed tonight.”

John dropped his glass. It didn’t break, but spilled the remaining liquid on the floor. John didn’t care, and he suspected that neither did Eliza.

They were staring at each other now, both of their eyes wide and filled with something John wasn’t sure he could name.

“Does Alexander know that you’re planning to ask-“

“No.”, she interrupted him. “But I don’t think he will have any word to say against it.”

John swallowed. His throat felt like he hadn’t had a drink in weeks, but he knew that for this to happen he would need to answer.

“We can kiss, and we may touch each other.” John felt heat rise in his cheeks, but it was better to say all of this at once. “I can not make love to you, and no not wish for us to use our mouths to please each other.”

Eliza nodded, her face full of understanding.

“And I ask of you John that we keep this a secret between the three of us. Others will not be able to understand us. They will not be able to understand why we need to do this." 

John didn’t hesitate then, he simply leaned forward and placed an almost gentle kiss on her lips. He had kissed women before, but this was the first time he felt something during it. It wasn’t the same kind of lust and wanting he felt when he kissed men, but the kiss still sent shocks through his body. It didn’t arouse him, but it did fill him with a sense of love he had only felt a few times before. 

Eliza set her own glass of wine on he table, got up from the sofa, and took John’s hand again. He took hers without hesitation, and followed her to the main bedroom of the house which she shared with her husband.

The bed was large and felt comfortable when he sat on it. He watched as Eliza light the candles around the room, filling it with a comfortable glow. John felt a strange feeling in his stomach, nervousness mixing with elation and pure terror. 

“What if he no longer wants me that way?”, John asked, his fears taking a hold of him.

Eliza didn’t turn to him before answering.

“I know that he wants you as much as I know he wants me.” 

She looked beautiful in the yellow glow when she turned to him, and he couldn’t help but to get up from the bed and walk up to her.

This was foreign territory to him, but knowing that he was allowed to touch, and knowing that he actually wanted to touch was simply too much. He ran his thumb on her cheek, and gently pulled her into another kiss. This one was deeper, and they both opened their mouths to welcome each other. Their tongues touched for a moment before they pulled apart, both of them smiling.

“Help me out of this dress.”, Eliza sighed breathlessly, and John got to work.

He slowly unlased the dress at the back, helping the top corseted part off from her. The skirts underneath were off easily after that, and fell on the floor in a heap. She was left standing in there in her undergarments, but it only took a moment before she had grabbed his shirt and was pulling it off of him. After his pants were gone, they stood there, both only a few garments away from naked, and looked at each other. Where her skin was pale and soft, his was tan and sharp. He had once been muscular, but illness had robbed him of that pleasure.

As her one last act of undressing him, Eliza reached behind him, and yanked the ribbon she had tied earlier out of his hair.

As if on queue, they heard the front door open and close.

John took Eliza’s hand in his again, a familiar comfort.

“I haven’t planned what we should say to him.”, Eliza whispers, her voice quiet.

John gives her another quick kiss as he hears footsteps on their stairs. “I don’t think words are the most important thins this time.”

They share a reassuring look between each other before the door creaked open, and Alexander stepped in.

His hair was wet, it has started to rain some hours before, and he was obviously in the act of taking off his wet coat. He stopped in his tracks when he saw them, hand in hand, mostly undressed, looking at him.

Alexander wasn’t often quiet, but John could see that right now he has no words. He’s trying to process the picture in front of him, and words will simply not come. 

As if they had planned it, John and Eliza took the steps to reach Alexander in unison. John reached for the coat and Eliza took her husbands face in her hands. She ran her hands around his mouth, circling his beard his gentle strokes, and then she kissed him. It was a long and deep kiss, and when they finally parted, John felt breathless simply for having witnessed it. 

Eliza stepped aside, and she didn’t need to motion John in any way for him to know that it’s his time. 

John had fantasized about this for years. He had dreamed of kissing Alexander ever since the day of the wedding, and now that he pressed his lips against Alexander’s, it felt just as perfect as it did all those years ago.

When he and Alexander parted, he could see in Alexander’s face that he had somehow understood. He had understood what they wanted, what they truly needed. He had always been too smart for his own good, and he saw that they didn’t want to share him, they wanted to have him, together. 

John leaned to the other side then, and placed another kiss on Eliza. The gasp Alexander let out was almost closer to a moan, and John felt himself getting hard. When the kiss has run its course, John started to trail kisses down Eliza’s neck. He gently cupped her bottom, and that got a giggle out of Eliza, who returned the favor. It had felt strange, but oddly right. He wasn’t attracted to her, but he did enjoy making her feel good, and he was quite sure she feels the same way.

John noticed Alexander’s pats dropping to the floor, and when he turned to face him, he was already naked. John wanted to laugh because this is just like before, Alexander had never been known for someone who hesitates.

Alexander sat on the bed now, his cock already hard, obviously eager for this to move on. John pushed the other man into a laying position on the bed, and he and Eliza crawled next to him from opposite sides. Both of them stopped for a moment the take off their remaining clothing, so when they are all finally on the bed, they are all fully nude.

John and Eliza both went for his face, and they ended up in a messy threeway kiss, lips meeting lips haphazardly. The kiss was sloppy and messy, and it felt better than anything John had felt before.

Eliza kept kissing her husband, but John started trailing his kisses lower. Down the throat, across Alexander’s chest, all the way down to his hips.

This wasn’t anything he and Alexander hadn’t done before. Back during the war, he had mapped every freckle in Alexander’s body with his mouth, but this was somehow different. There was no fear of someone walking in, it almost felt like this wasn’t something criminal.

John first placed a small kiss on Alexander’s cock, and he heard him gasp against Eliza’s mouth. That was all the encouragement he had needed, and John took Alexander’s cock in his mouth.

It had been a while since he has done this, but he found a comfortable rhythm quick, jerking the other man’s cock with his hand while sucking it quite messily. 

John glanced up to see that Eliza has stopped kissing Alexander, who was now moaning in earnest. Instead, she has guided one of his hands to her crotch, and John saw Alexander rubbing slow circles against her womanhood, while Eliza was letting her own fingers trail across Alexander’s chest. When her fingers found one of his nipples, she gave it a tentative squeeze, and Alexander let out a load moan and bucked into John’s mouth.

“Oh Christ, this is better than any dream I have ever had.”, Alexander moaned, and John felt oddly proud of himself.

Eliza gave Alexander’s other nipple a squeeze, but to John’s surprise it was Eliza who let out a moan.

He looked up to see that Alexander had pushed two of his fingers inside of her, and was then rhythmically sliding them in and out of her, while letting his thumb rub the outside. She was breathing heavily, and her skin was flushed all over. She looked absolutely gorgeous, even if the sight of her didn’t really arouse John.

John let Alexander’s cock out of his mouth, and the other man didn’t whine or hesitate, simply pushed his wife against the mattress, and got his head down to her waist. John had never witnessed this, and he watched with strange fascination as Alexander gave her a heavy tongued lick, while pushing his fingers back inside of her. She moaned, her breathing hard. John crawled to the top of the bed and he kissed her again.

John watched as she suddenly gripped Alexander’s hair, and let out a high moan. Her back arched, and the hand not in Alexander’s hair gripped the sheets. After a moment she relaxed, her breaths coming out loud. John watched as Alexander got up, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and reached to kiss her. 

Eliza looked content and happy, and her smile stretched even wider as Alexander leaned to kiss John. They shuffled to find a good position until they were facing each other, their foreheads resting against each other. John reached a hand between them and Alexander did the same. They pushed their hard cocks against each other, and quickly established a familiar rhythm. They kissed again, and John felt his release nearing. It took only a few more strokes before he was coming. Alexander only took a moment longer, and they collapsed on their backs, hands sticky with their release.

Eliza was there a moment later, a wet cloth with her. She cleaned Alexander’s stomach and hands, but handed the cloth to John with a kiss so he could clean himself.

Fifteen minutes later Alexander was fast asleep in the middle of the bed, a smile still on his lips, but both John and Eliza were still awake. They were once again holding hands, their joined fingers resting on Alexander.

“Thank you.”, John whispered into the darkness for her. 

After that, John rarely sleeps in his own room. They all share the same bed, but it isn’t just about sharing the bed. Their relationship is equally balanced, it’s husbands and wife. They share almost everything and John is so grateful he can’t put it into words.

John tells them he loves both of them only a few weeks after he starts sharing their bed and they tell him they love him. His love with Alexander is the kind of love he’s familiar with. It’s lust, it’s affection, and it’s passion, but the love he has for Eliza is different. The love he feels for her is romantic for sure, it simply lacks the desire. She tells him she feels the same way about him, and he loves her even more.

Eliza starts expecting not long after that. It’s strange, watching as her belly starts to slowly round, how her breasts swell, and how she gets even happier every day. The strangest thing however, is how much John feels like it’s his child she’s expecting.

It can’t be, they have never crossed that line and never will, but it feels like his child still. Alexander finds it funny since he has been through this before with Philip, but John starts to fret. He follows her around the house and tries to help her with everything. He massages her feet and gives her small kisses as often as he can. Eliza obviously finds it quite endearing and is willing to let him hover over her.

Little Philip loves John as much as he loves the little boy, and he often plays with the little boy every day.

When the time comes and little Angelica is born, John loves her so much he thinks he could burst from it. He loves all of the children when they’re born one after the other, and they love him.

They call him uncle John, or sometimes papa. When they start to grow up, they start to understand that some people might find it strange that they have an uncle that shares a bed with their mother and father, but John is blessed because they are also their parents children. They are wise, and John knows that Philip and Angelica already know, but they have never judged or questioned. 

John realizes that he’s crying, now, on this carriage to New York, when he remembers all of this. It pains him, it causes old wounds to ache in a way they haven’t ached in years. 

The carriage sways, and the damned pamphlet is still gripped in his hand. The anger is burning inside of him, stronger with every mile they get closer to New York. His mind feels like his mind from before the war, ready to challenge anything and everything. He wants a pistol in his hand, he wants to make Alexander pay for his actions, he wants revenge for himself.

By the time he reaches the now too familiar door, his anger is ready to burst at the seams. He thinks about marching straight to the office and grabbing the guns from the cabinet, but as he steps to the door, it swings right open to reveal Philip.

The boys face is ashen and tired, and as soon as the door closes behind him, he can’t help but to embrace the boy. He hasn’t let go of him yet, as he feels other arms grabbing him, smaller hands around him. There are whispers of his name, and he and Philip gather up all the children and lead them to the parlor.

They don’t want to let go of him, and John feels sick thinking about what life must have been like in this house in the weeks since the news broke.

John sheds his coat and takes Philip to the side of the room.

“Do they understand what’s happening?”, John asks, suddenly feeling more tired than in years.

Philip shakes his head.

“They don’t understand why mommy won’t come out of the bedroom and why father won’t talk.”

John nods, and looks at the children scattered by the fire. The older ones are trying to entertain the younger ones, but John can see how tired and drained they look, especially Philip and Angelica.

“I’ll take care of Eliza. You get everyone to bed tonight, and I’ll take charge of everything starting tomorrow.”

John sees the tears flood Philip’s eyes, and he hugs the boy tight again. 

All of the anger has leaked out of John. All he could think was how badly Alexander had betrayed him, but now it seemed almost insignificant, childish. John had a responsibility.

Philip went to gather up the children, and John went to head upstairs. It felt strange that the stairs still creaked at the same parts as they had when he had last walked up them, because this felt like another times, another reality. Had the stairs creaked when Alexander had led the woman into their bed? 

John reached the top of the stairs and the door to the room that once was his opened. It had been Alexander’s office for years now.

Alexander looked a mess, his hair was disheveled, he had bags under his eyes, and his expression was sullen. As he recognized who it was, John could see a spark of something in the other man’s eyes.

“Oh, John, thank the lord.” Alexander stepped fully out of the room. “Someone who understand what I’m struggling here to do.”

Alexander reached for John’s hand, but John yanked it away from him, his almost forgotten anger resurfacing again, even if for a moment.

“I’m not here for you.”

John didn’t spare him another look, simply passed him, and walked to the other end of the hallway. He didn’t knock or look back, simply stepped into the bedroom.

The room was almost dark, the only light was a lantern on the table.

Eliza was seated in a chair next to it, a stack of papers in her hands, and her eyes focused on nothing, her face blank. Her other hand is rested on the bump on her stomach, another babe on the way. She had told him she was expecting only the day before he left for the south. 

“Did you know?” 

Her voice was surprisingly strong, it didn’t waiver or break under the heavy words.

The words themselves hit John like a physical blow.

He crosses the room and kneels by the chair, taking her hands.

“Do you truly think I would keep a thing like this from you?”

Their eyes meet, and her look is pure steel, anger and betrayal. She clutches the papers in her hand and John sees what they are; letters. He doesn’t have to investigate further to know what letters they are, he recognizes Alexander’s eloquent hand.

For a moment they stay there, looking at each other, clutching on to each other like the other one is the only thing keeping them afloat.

It was Eliza who finally broke the silence.

“Did you see the children?”

John nodded.

“They are alright, but they are scared.”, he clutched her hand in his a little stronger. “They miss their mother. They miss their father.”

Eliza turned her gaze to the window, to the dark street outside.

“I can’t John, I can’t be a mother right now.”

John kisses her hands, and rubs his hand across her cheeks.

“Then I will care for them until you are ready for it again.”

Finally her eyes fill up with tears, emotion finally surfacing.

“You are a better father to my children than I could have ever asked for." 

She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his, and they stayed there like that for a moment, breathing each other in. 

After a moment Eliza parts, and John helps her up from the chair. The letters are still in her hand, but without hesitation, she opens the lantern and pushes the letters in, and watches as the flames spread to them quickly. There is no haste in her movements as she gently places them to the basin on the table, and together they watch as the letters blacken and slowly burn. 

“She brought her here.” She says after a while, sounding absent.

“I know.” He takes her hand again. “We will burn the sheets tomorrow.”

She nods her agreement, and John starts to help her out of her dress and into her nightclothes. He undresses himself as well, and together they get into the bed. They curl up against each other, John has his hands around her and he strokes slow circles on her stomach. 

“I wish I didn’t love him.” Eliza whispers in the darkness. “I wish you and I could have been enough for each other. I wish you and I could have been.”

John feels his heart swell, and he blinks away tears then. He kisses her cheek, and holds her tighter. 

“Me too.”

The next morning Eliza stays in the room, and John gets to work. He burns the sheets, he burns the pillows, he burns the duvet. The children help happily, they think it a new fun game, but John sees how Philip and Angelica look at him.

In the days to come Philip goes back to school and Alexander is mostly absent. John puts the newspapers in the fireplace every morning without opening them, he doesn’t need to read what they’re saying. The children latch onto him, the younger ones all fight for a place in his arms. John takes care of them the best he can, he takes them to walks in the park, he plays with them, and he puts them into bed every night. 

Eliza leaves the bedroom during the day at first, only when she knows that Alexander won’t be at home. She mostly knits with the girls, or has one of the boys read to her, but when the clock starts to near 5, she retreats to the room that now belongs to just her and John. 

That goes on for a while, until the day that would haunt John until his last one.

He is sitting with the children, helping them with their reading, when there is an urgent knock at the door. It a friend of Philips, and his tone is urgent.

“Please Mrs. Hamilton, you need to come right away, I don’t know how much time he has.”

The world crashes. Eliza hurries out of the door, paying no mind to John or the other children. John thanks the lord that they didn’t hear the message the man was carrying.

The paper is laying on the floor, and John reads the words and they pain him. A duel, pure, sweet Philip was in a duel, and judging by the urgency of his friend it had not gone to plan.

John hopes against all odds that the situation isn’t as dire as it seems. Some hours later when all the children have been put to bed, Eliza and Alexander return. John meets them by the door, and they don’t need to say the words for John to know that Philip is gone.

His legs give out from under him, and he sinks to his knees. He remembered a small Philip asleep on his chest, he remembered how the small boy had first started to find his footing when toddling from him to Eliza, he remembered hours with Alexander and John, teaching the boy to shoot and play cards, he remembered how Philip had done his best to care for his brothers and sisters after the cursed pamphlet. 

John wants to be angry. He wants to hurt someone, he wants to kill or maim, but the anger never comes. On the days after that when the family is shrouded in black, and Philip is buried, John feels empty. He stays strong for the children, and Eliza and Alexander do the same.

They buy a house uptown to give the children more space and freedom to play. The new house has enough bedrooms for the children to share, and surprisingly the world seems content to move on. 

For a long time, John blames himself. Since Philip had been a little boy, John had told him stories of his own duels, how he had honorably faces Lee on the dueling ground. On a rainy afternoon he recounts all of this to Eliza, and after he has opened his heart, he starts to heal.

John resumes his writing, since the war he’s been consulted by many leaders on tactics, and he finds it almost comforting. Eliza goes back to knitting and baking, and the children start playing again. The only person that can’t face the world seems to be Alexander.

He wakes every morning early, by the time John and Eliza emerge from their room he has already left for a walk. Sometimes he’d walk from morning until lunch. Every Sunday he takes the children to church, and plays with them every single day. Alexander, who John believed to be an unstoppable force, seems to stop.

The last babe is born, and Eliza names him Philip, and after that the last angers leaves her and John.

The babe is only a few weeks old when John is sitting with the little one in his arms, slowly cradling him when he sees that in the garden, Eliza is holding Alexander’s hand. Forgiveness was bound to happen, they all knew that after the tragedy they faced there was simply no point in anger.

Alexander sleeps between them in their bed that night, and they all cry. John feels like he’s seeing Alexander for the first time in all these months, like Alexander had been taken from them and finally returned.

After that Alexander starts to return to himself, but not fully. He has a busy correspondence going on again, and he sits in his office for long periods simply writing.

The love between the three of them is stronger than ever for the next few blessed years. They mold into each other, they become stronger by each other. 

John wakes on a regular morning with both of his lovers absent from their bed, but before he has time to go look, Eliza slips back into bed.

“What was it this time?” John asks as he wraps his arms around her. 

“He has a meeting at dawn and needed to write something down.” Eliza mutters and settles into a better position. “He did call us best of wives and best of husbands.” 

John lets out a huff of laughter.

That would be the last time he laughs for a long time.

They are both at Alexander’s side when he dies. Another pointless duel, another pointless death.

After that, the years are not kind to them. They have very little money, John never worked properly after his injury due to his lacking health, but he starts writing essays for pay, and makes enough for them to keep the house. 

The worst, though, is the grief. In the beginning it overwhelms them, but they struggle through it, they learn to live with it. Night after night John and Eliza hold each other, cursing the time they lost with Alexander due to their anger. Some nights they cry, some nights can’t stand to be around each other, but in the end their love wins and they stay together.

The children start to live their own lives and start to leave the house, and John and Eliza move back downtown. In the end when it’s just the two of them left, they marry, mostly so that when John dies Eliza will have enough left to carry on. It is just a simple ceremony, a few of the children attend, and they go back to their lives right away.

John is in his 56th year when his health starts to decline. He never fully recovered from his war injury, he was prone to sickness after that. For the next year John struggles through it, struggles to keep the fevers and aches away because he can’t bare the thought of leaving Eliza, not when she has lost so much.

Some months after his 60th birthday a new fever takes hold, and they both know that this will be the final one. He feels old beyond his years, but he is pleased to have his wife by his side for his final weeks.

The news of his sickness spreads and the ones of the children who are able come, those too far away write. They talk to him in kind words, and John is so proud of himself for raising his children to be this kind.

He spends his last days with Eliza by his side. He can no longer open his eyes, but he can feel her hand in his. He has been holding that hand in his for years, and when his life finally slips away from him, the last thing he is aware of is his wives gentle hands.

* * *

Eliza buries her second husband with a heavy heart, but with gratefulness. John was the best husband any woman could hope for, even if they could never love each other fully. Loving the same man was enough for them. 

She spends the rest of her old days working to do good. He interviews soldiers who served with her husbands, she raises funds, she funds an orphanage. She makes sure Alexander’s story is told, because she knows that that is what John would have wanted.

She lives a long and full life, and when her time comes, she has no regrets in her heart. She slips away in her bed, her frail hair tied with a ribbon she had used to tie John’s hair all those years ago, and in her hands a small portrait of Alexander.

When she opens her eyes and finally gets to see them again, she thanks the lord for his kindness.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Alexander/John/Eliza, and I've always thought about how on earth Eliza and John would make it work, since I believe John was gay, so this fic just kinda happened.  
> All of this was written in two nights, and I'm pretty sure I've made massive errors at some points.


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